


a time for us

by shakespearespaz



Category: Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: 4 sures, Angst, Cuddling & Snuggling, F/F, Fluff, Kissing, Science, how many times can river and 13 call each other wife seriously, my 13 will literally talk science to ANYONE who will listen, so just roll with it, some get a kiss some don't idk, there's no explanation for how the doc gets into these situations, wow missy and 13 are time CHILDREN
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-07
Updated: 2018-12-07
Packaged: 2019-09-13 10:07:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16890534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shakespearespaz/pseuds/shakespearespaz
Summary: Thirteen spends five different holidays on five different planets with five different ladies. Highlights include an underwater kiss, formal attire, mosquitoes, and cheese (literally).(aka ladies loving 13 because I love 13)





	1. a time for kelp harvesting

“Fish!”

Yaz squinted at the striped orange and purple creature that was the length of several cars. It did have scales and six or seven fin-like appendages.

“That’s a fish?”

“Well, distant relative. Nice job with that.” The Doctor gave a thumbs-up to the teenager who belonged to the not-fish. “Not the biggest I’ve seen but a respectable catch.”

Yaz and the Doctor watched as they hauled it back into the water, the splash from the mass almost hitting them.

“They’re not keeping it?”

“Oh, no. It’s just part of the games they hold. The septines—” she nodded at their orange and purple friend circling and splashing to the delight of the crowd, “—agree to it because they’re quite competitive. Absolute jokers too. Always looking for some fun. Show offs.”

The septine finally headed off, leaving a chain of splashes as they disappeared into the nearly green ocean under the bright midday suns.

The Doctor turned to Yaz, a grin on her face. Yaz couldn’t help but smile.

“Where to next? Food? Skinny dipping near the heated vents of Aunk? Underwater hat knitting competition? Bore tide isn’t for another few hours. Lots to do, lots of time—my favorite situation!”

Yaz watched the Doctor, who was doing her best to stand still as waited for a response, although Yaz could see her sway back and forth slightly with anticipation.

“Hats,” Yaz said, “I want to see the underwater hats.”

“Great choice.”

She slid her hand into Yaz’s and turned to tug her along the shoreline. They made their way thru the heart of Griend, the largest floating settlement on third planet from the star Helm. Yaz had gotten the gist of the city’s history and construction from the Doctor as they’d landed, even though she’d shoved several biscuits in her mouth at once and talked at her usual breakneck pace. The city was mainly constructed from a coral-like organism which grew in dense forests around the shallow but entirely water covered surface of the planet. It was sturdy and renewable, and in some places the city towered close to fifteen stories tall. Narrow staircases took one past homes and shops, decorated with shells and rocks, shoes left outside many a door.

The Doctor stopped suddenly, catching Yaz by the arm as they almost collided. She nodded down an alleyway.

“That’s where they’re drying the seaweed after the summer harvest.”

Sure enough, in the square beyond, large, fat strands of a kelp-like plant were laid out. It was a rainbow of colors—blue, green, orange, some almost pink. The Grand Griend Harvest the Doctor had called it, and the annual celebration brought folks from around the planet to massive city for a weeklong celebration.

Yaz wrinkled her nose. “It smells…”

“Rank, I know.”

Her hand joining Yaz’s again, the Doctor made her way over a coral bridge that once may have been a deep purple, but had since faded to a gentle lilac. The center of the city was broken into quadrants by watery thoroughfares, functioning like roads. Below the bridge drifted small dingys and other watercraft.

The Doctor leaned over the edge to take a better look.

“Ah, that’s quaint.”

“Quaint?”

“Well, old-fashioned. Bit of a tourist thing. Do you want to see how modern Griendians get around?”

Yaz nodded, clutching the Doctor’s hand tighter. There were no words for this, for holding the hand of the most amazing person you’d ever met, wandering an unfamiliar city in the warm sunlight with gentle waves lapping against the docks you tread. This was peace and adventure rolled into one.

They entered a wide double door, the lack of light making the air inside cool and damp against Yaz’s skin. Her eyes took a moment to adjust. Thankfully, she could see the stairs they went down. Then the dark opened into a literal sea of blue.

They were underwater, in a tube. Half the tube was solid, but above was transparent. Yaz tried to process, but the Doctor tugged her along. Soon, the entire tube became clear, and it wasn’t the only one. Beneath the city ran a maze of transparent passageways. They originated from all around the base of the city like roots, shortcuts from one section to another, some small enough to only hold a person or two, others large enough for an entire crowd. The best Yaz could liken it to was underwater hamster tunnels.

“Isn’t it incredible?”

The Doctor turned, her face lit up, engaged, exactly the way Yaz loved her.

“The engineering was not easy, and the project had more delays than Jovian transport shuttle, but the result is so worth it.”

A septine swam past, followed by school of long, turquoise, eel-like creatures. The Doctor dropped Yaz’s hand, moving forward to lean against the tunnel wall.

“We can’t even see my favorite part of the ocean. It’s microscopic!”

“Phytoplankton?” Yaz guessed.

The Doctor turned towards her, mouth agape, lips turned upward into a smile.

“Phytoplankton! You’re right, Yaz. You’re a wonder, has anyone ever told you that? You’re—the hats!” Her face changed as she remembered. “We’re going to be late for underwater hat knitting!”

They made it to the spectacle just in time. A crowd occupied the tubes around the show, which consisted of a couple dozen divers, treading water and knitting hats. Yaz and the Doctor sat on the ground, watching the skillful residents before them.

“How’d this get started?” Yaz wondered.

“That is a great question, and I have no idea. Maybe someone was underwater and got cold.”

“Maybe it was a dare.”

“Maybe knitting above water was banned, so the knitters could only knit down here, in secret, banished forever to the literal watery depths of the city.”

Yaz laughed.

“Oh, look,” she said, pointing to the edges of the spectators, “Someone is selling the hats!”

“What?!” The Doctor was on her feet. “I _need_ a hat knit underwater.”

It took some haggling, as the Doctor bartered with the contents of her pockets—a ticket stub from the theater on Gavos Prime, a small coil of copper wire, some djot seeds she’d been saving, and a very smooth rock. Success was eventually hers.

She pulled the hat over her head. It was a dark blue with a colored fish motif, and only a few wisps of hair stuck out at the bottom, framing her face. Yaz thought it ridiculous and perfect.

“Let’s keep moving.”

They wandered until the Doctor stopped in a quiet domed corner on the edge of the city. The world floated by outside, the light filtering through the water and ceiling, dancing on the floor and their faces.

“I feel like we were talking about—oh! Phytoplankton!” She grabbed Yaz by the arms and pulled her down onto the floor again.

“The tiniest beginning of the food chain.”

“Only a few millimeters across.”

They were only a few centimeters apart. Yaz felt her chest swell with a deep breath in. The Doctor continued.

“Its energy source is finely ground minerals, deposited in the ocean, stirred by tides with fresh and saltwater, supplied, of course…” She stopped and stared in wonder around her, the bright space making her eyes that gentle hazel. “…with light. You must have light.”

Yaz leaned in further, bringing those eyes back to hers.

“From phytoplankton we get zooplankton,” Yaz said, “all the way up to those I never knew until today. Septines and so on.”

There were septines around them, and jellies too, and in the distance trunks and branches of coral stretching for miles, clinging to the sandy, rocky bottom that was so close and so far still.

“This tapestry of life,” the Doctor breathed, “It’s beautiful.”

Yaz found it difficult to exhale, frozen in place at the unspoken complexity of it all. She could only say the first thought that popped into her head.

“Do ever wonder about the geologic basis for this planet? Are there plate tectonics? Are there icy poles? Because otherwise where does the fresh wa—”

The Doctor’s mouth was on hers, wet and gentle, a hand finding her jaw, gentle too.

They stayed in their dome under the sea for some time, backs against the cold floor, warm arms around each other, faces turned upwards to the marine wonders above. Yaz broke the silence.

“What was that earlier about skinny dipping near Aunk?”

“The heated vents! Wait, until I tell you about the magmatic convection that makes generates those!”

Yaz couldn’t wait.


	2. a time for kzam

In the fading hues of the evening, under a sky shifting from pink to purple to blue, the streets of the small village of Zarrow were ready to be lit. In three hours, the yellow ball in the sky would dip below the horizon, before taking five years to rise again. The Doctor had explained it in the TARDIS, an orange in hand, handing Rose a torch to be the star in the system, gesturing vaguely to explain seasons. As far as Rose could tell, the orbit was extremely long and the tilt of the planet severe, which made for long, dark winters at extreme northern and southern latitudes.

They wandered the streets at those latitudes. Rose took another bite of the doughy yet sweet yet savory food she had gotten as they landed. Well, the Doctor had gotten it, taken a few bites, and decided she was done. It warmed her from the inside, and she glanced over at the Doctor, walking with hands in her pockets.

“Are you—are you shivering?” Rose asked.

“Yes, maybe?” The Doctor scrunched up her face. “Okay, perhaps, I’m a bit cold.”

“Where’s your scarf?”

“In the TARDIS?”

‘You fool’ went unsaid, as Rose grabbed her bare hand with her gloved one.

“I thought Time Lords could withstand cold temperatures.”

“We can, but that doesn’t mean it’s comfortable.”

Rose chose a building at random and swung open the large, industrial door, dragging her hopeless girlfriend into the heated space inside.

“Are you here for the feast?”

A man who came up only to about Rose’s waist had addressed them, from a desk to their left.

“I believe…we…are…” The Doctor looked to Rose.

“Yes, definitely,” Rose said.

“Splendid! Take a seat right thru those doors.”

The Doctor offered her arm to Rose, who took it with a smile. They traveled the length of the building, which was stacked high with supplies, probably for the long, cold winter ahead. Books and tools and grains and hats and more crowded them on both sides until they got to another pair of doors. They each put a hand on a door and pushed them open.

The hall was larger inside than they could have imagined. Tables stretched out in a maze, organized in varying configurations ending in spirals and branching off to create different sections, all connected. The room was full too; a good portion of Zarrow’s two thousand residents must have been there. The last of summer’s dried flowers hung from the rafters, as did light, in all forms, from lanterns to candles to bare bulbs.

“Someone went a bit crazy on pinterest,” Rose said.

The Doctor smiled. “What’s a pinterest?”

“Oh my, we’ll get to that later.”

“Oh, there are two seats together!”

They wove their way to the far corner, shed their layers, and took a seat. There was too much food to name: puddings that Rose almost recognized, but had flavors she’d never tasted; breads the size of an entire table, where you’d tear a piece off to find a different, smaller loaf inside; roasted fibrous plants in a sweet sticky sauce; and what must have been close to a mead, but with a hint of something like pomegranate.

They ate and drank, and the Doctor put her feet up on her chair, leaning over, close to Rose.

“Are you having fun?”

“Absolutely.”

The Doctor smiled. Rose could feel her hesitation at times, because she shared it as well. This was new, like it’d always been, but somehow even newer. The Doctor played, more curious than Rose had ever seen them, but she also saw her checking in, stealing glances at Rose in the snow or across the TARDIS. What Rose wanted to say was that she need not worry; she had loved every incarnation of them, and always would, and now, in the flickering lights, cheeks flushed in this crowded, sweltering room, she could not love her more.

“Is that…is that cheese??” The Doctor glanced past Rose at the table. She was up and soon returned with an entire platter in her hands. “Look, Rose, fancy cheeses! This one’s shaped like a snowman!”

The Doctor tried a green colored piece. Her face lit up.

“Here try this!”

She fed Rose a piece of the cheese. Rose decided that its taste was certainly…unique. “Is that…?”

“Flavored with kzam? Yes! Brilliant.”

“I had kzam in my garden this summer,” the grey haired lady with golden cat eyes seated across the table butted in, “Grows like crazy in the years where the sun doesn’t set.”

The Doctor leaned in. “I hear it makes a very nice chutney as well.”

“Hmm. My wife used to try and make kzam-onade.” She chuckled to herself. “Never worked. Far too bitter.”

She seemed to sadden, her inner eyelids blinking rapidly.

“How long have you lived in Zarrow?” The Doctor asked.

“Oh, gosh. It must be about…127 years. I’m getting up there.”

That fact weighed heavy on her as well.

Rose leaned in too. “And how long since you lost her?”

Out of the corner of her eye, Rose could see the Doctor’s head angle just slightly towards her, but she stayed focused on the woman.

“This will be my first winter alone.”

Dark tears clouded her golden eyes. Rose reached a hand across the table and she accepted it, clutching it tightly. The Doctor found the woman’s gaze.

“You’ll make it thru,” the Doctor encouraged, gently and urgently.

The woman smiled again, and moved to wipe away the tears. “Oh, I certainly will. There’s too much left to see and do to give up now.”

Sunset was upon them too soon. Rose and the Doctor moved outside with their friend, who gave each of them a tight, warm embrace before moving off to watch the setting alone. The residents and their guests were nearly all outside, and the Doctor dragged Rose up a steep incline to get a good view of the horizon and town.

“Why’s it always climbing or running with you?”

“I’m cold. Gotta stay moving,” the Doctor replied.

“Come here.”

Rose pulled her into a sitting position on the snowy ground, wrapping her arms around her.

“That nice new coat and you’re still cold,” she lectured.

“It was not rated for subarctic conditions, alright.”

The sun was mere degrees above the horizon.

“Can you imagine not seeing the sun for five years?” Rose asked, her warm breath coming out in a little puff of water vapor near the Doctor’s shoulder.

“Yes.”

“Have _you_ gone five years without seeing the sun?”

The Doctor fiddled with the sleeve of Rose’s jacket.

“When you’re hundreds of years old, five years isn’t a lot. Comparatively.”

“Bullshit.”

“Rose…”

Her name against the Doctor’s lips was a warning, one that she’d never heeded before. Her eyes softened, as her Doctor looked at her, full of love, asking for a centimeter of space.

“Another time then,” Rose breathed.

“Look…”

They turned back to the view, as the sun disappeared. The last few rays shifted in what seemed like slow motion across the frozen ground, catching snow and frost crystals one last time in a sparkling, serene scene. And then the light was gone.

They sat huddled together for few minutes more, until the stars began to appear.

“Okay, now _I’m_ cold,” Rose said.

They stood together to go, leaning into each other. As they turned towards Zarrow, the town had lit itself up, string lights and glowing yellow windows bringing their own light and stubbornness in the face of the lengthy winter to come.


	3. a time for candles

Bill was running, again.

The Doctor was right behind her, as was the darkness. Bill stopped right around a corner to catch her breath, and the Doctor nearly collided with her.

“Aww,” she exclaimed, “Why isn’t there any light down here?”

“I mean for abandoned subways tunnels under the largest metropolitan planet in in the quadrant, it’s not too bad, is it?” Bill replied.

“Hilarious! Let’s go.”                                                      

They kept running, the ambient light fading. Their path was eventually lit solely by Bill’s iPhone and the Doctor’s sonic. The next time Bill stopped, it was because before them stood escalators, descending into pitch black. Bill looked back.

“Oh god, it’s still back there isn’t it?”

The Doctor hopped in front of her, climbing onto the middle section between the two escalators.

“Only one way forward,” she said, “This is probably a terrible idea, isn’t it?”

“Objectively, yes,” Bill replied, moving to join to her.

Bill pushed them off, and they slid into the darkness. It must have been the longest escalator in this quadrant as well, since it took them several minutes to get to the bottom, even at the jarringly rapid pace they were sliding.

They both screamed the entire way.

They ended up in a pile together at the bottom. Bill was getting used to this Doctor—soft skin, and a wide smile found with ease, and an energy that scared Bill a little at first. It had not taken long, though, before she was well and truly gone. Lying on top of the Doctor, she felt her heart pounding, and not just from the chase.

“Hey, Bill,” The Doctor said, breathing into a smile at the woman on top of her, “Let’s keep moving.”

The next stop was for art.

“Whoa.” Bill had to back up a few steps.

Whatever was behind them they seemed to have outpaced for a while at least. The Doctor slowed as well.

“That’s magnificent.”

A mosaic covered the walls, the ceiling, even the floor. It contained people, laughing, crying, living, each image blending seamlessly into the next. Their lights hit the tiles, all which had an iridescent quality to them, and the images appeared to move as their viewing angle changed.

The Doctor followed the mosaic and Bill followed her. Their footsteps echoed, the only sound in the dark corridors.

“It looks like it was put in after the tunnels were out of use,” Bill guessed.

“It certainly does.”

“Why would people be down here?” Bill asked, watching the Doctor examine the walls as they moved.

“Many reasons. Shelter, scavenging, adventure, sheer shenanigans--like us--or…artistic expression? A blank canvas beneath your feet…”

The sounds were very faint at first, and Bill thought she was imagining them.

“Doctor…” Bill reached out and grabbed the Doctor’s wrist. Physical contact with the Doctor was comforting, in a way that it hadn’t been before. She needed the assurance, as she listened to the new, unfamiliar sounds coming out of the dark.

“I hear it,” the Doctor said.

One tentative foot in front of the other, and they followed the mosaic and the sound. It became clearer, distant, muffled echoes morphing into separate voices. It was singing.

“It’s so…pretty,” Bill said, her eyes finding the Doctor in the low light.

“And sad.”

The song became louder, stronger, as they continued. Time became distorted, space hard to gauge. The world was mostly grey and black, with only the mysterious, harmonizing voices as a guide. Finally, the darkness opened up.

The atrium was at least ten stories tall, perhaps an old train station, with light filtering through dirty windows far above. The rays of light did not pierce all the way into the darkness below. Escalators and ramps and stairs crisscrossed the vacuum before them. The Doctor leaned against the railing, and Bill joined her. Across the space, below and above as well, on ledges and bridges, there were people. They held candles, individual lights floating in the dark.

“It’s them,” Bill pointed out, “They’re singing.”

She looked to the Doctor, who stood still, listening.

“Do you know what they’re saying?” Bill asked.

“I-I didn’t before. I couldn’t make it out. The translators are wonky. A lot of the terminology seems to be archaic. But, uh, let me try.”

She closed her eyes to focus better. Bill watched. Her previous Doctor had been still often. With this one, it was rare but breathtaking. Bill had to look away before she completely forgot how to function.

The Doctor spoke. “ _Honor us, guide us…caress us_? Rough translation on that one.” She continued. “ _This ancient shelter_...something about _last night_? Oh, um… _lost in the night_. Ugh, really finicky this one.”

She opened her eyes.

“ _For you we create, for you we remember, for you we carry within us always_ , _on this day and thru all time_.”

“It’s a day of remembrance,” Bill said.

“The mosaics…” The Doctor began.

“ _For you we create_. It must be images all the people they remember here.”

They listened to the delicate but somber voices. It struck Bill as a peaceful final existence.

“I’d like to be a mosaic when I die,” she said.

The Doctor reached out suddenly, weaving her fingers thru Bill’s and bringing both hands tightly to her chest.

“You’ll have entire worlds, Bill Potts.” Her voice almost broke. “But not yet, do not leave me yet.”

Those eyes were the same eyes she remembered. She’d forgotten how hard it was to say no to those eyes, when they burned thru you with such sheer need for companionship. It was hard to say no when those eyes belonged to an odd, angry grandpa you had happened upon, and even harder when they belonged to a pretty girl who supported and believed in you with every fiber of their being. God, Bill was useless when it came to girls.

“No, Doctor, not yet,” she said, with an attempt at a comforting smile.

The Doctor nodded, words still lost, and let go of Bill’s hand. Bill still made her best attempt to reach out.

“It’s kinda neat, isn’t it? That they city is built on these ruins. That it’s literally supported by them. Just like all our lives are built by people who came before us. And stuff too, like atoms from stars and things like that.”

The Doctor looked over, wonder and thanks in those familiar, new eyes.

“Every element inside your body heavier than iron formed in the mere seconds a star goes supernova, before being violently flung across the universe." The Doctor said it like an mantra, like something she'd said over and over. "Your very existence required a supernova.”

“I knew science would get through to you.”

“Bill?”

“Yes?”

“Will you come light a candle with me?”

“Absolutely.”

The Doctor smiled, not as wide as usual, and put out her hand for Bill. It didn’t matter that the Doctor was a being who could flatten you where you stood; they just wanted you to take their hand tightly and never let go, even though they knew that one day you must.

Bill took her hand. She would have to deal eventually with the way the slightest touch now quickened her pulse.

Today, though, she would find her Doctor a candle.


	4. a time for reflection

The Doctor could tell that her shadow was back. 

“I know you’re there. I can hear you breathing.”

Missy stepped out from behind the boulder.

“Well, I’m not the one who decided to climb a bloody mountain,” she protested.

“It’s not a mountain,” the Doctor explained curtly, “it’s a series of peaks, it’s called the Trek of B’woll, and it’s meant to cleanse your soul.”

Missy was beside her on the trail in a few seconds, matching pace even in her dress and boots.

“Cleanse your soul? You don’t believe in any of that stuff.”

The Doctor turned to her, chin raised defiantly.

“Oh, I see,” Missy continued, “This is one of your penance things. What’d you do this time? Why this little parade here and now?”

She gestured at the vista around them. Foliage was scarce at this altitude, and the ridge dropped off suddenly. Valleys stretched below on either side, a river roaring at the bottom, and in the distance, the ocean shone just before it was lost over the horizon. Over that horizon rose the wide, purple rings of B’woll.

“It’s tradition to do it in this phase of the moons.”

“Then where’s everyone else who’s doing it?”

The Doctor turned sharply, the skid of rocks beneath her boot sounding. “They’re dead.” She kept moving.

“Oh, did you kill them?”

“No.”

Missy sighed. “Fine. Did you indirectly cause their collective demise?”

“No. Now, this pilgrimage is solitary. Leave me alone.”

Missy blocked her path. She’d forgotten how impossible and stubborn the Doctor was. “You know, it’s been ages since I’ve gotten you alone, on a planet, all to myself, and can I just say, I love the regeneration.”

“So?”

“So, we could have some fun.” 

“Not in the mood.”

The trail was somehow both muddy and dusty, and somehow still getting steeper, and Missy was over all of it. She tried again.

“You’re not going to ask me how _I_ am?”

The Doctor paused, and Missy could see her hesitating, tempted.

“Fine, how are you, Missy?” The Doctor asked without turning around.

Missy clapped her hands together and closed the distance between them again.

“Better, now that I’ve confirmed you’re still soft and chewy at the center like a box of chocolate covered caramels. Aren’t all those emotions exhausting?”

“Still playing that role?” The Doctor said, locking eyes with her, “You’ve lost your edge.”

Missy grabbed the Doctor’s arm firmly and pulled her close, pressing her body into hers.

“Have I? What if I threw you off this mountain right now?”

There was no concern, no fear in the Doctor’s eyes, and even more there was perhaps a hint of resignation that almost frightened Missy back. Almost.

“God, you and your stupid sad, polite cat face.”

She released her.

“If you’re done,” the Doctor said, “I need to get some water.”

Missy rolled her eyes as the Doctor went past her, off the trail, and into the bushes.

“You’re Time Lord, not a houseplant. Why do you need water?”

 Still, she followed. The bushes broke into an alpine clearing, with a small blue lake in the middle. The Doctor knelt next to it, among small bell-shaped purple flowers, touching the surface gently. Missy made her way over, kneeling next to her. She swatted at the bugs.

“Ugh, mosquitoes. Or the B’woll equivalent. I hate outside.”

The Doctor dipped her whole hand into the lake, distorting her reflection to push around the mud on the bottom.

“Alright, listen, I’m sorry," Missy pleaded halfheartedly, "Is that what you want to hear? It’s not you, it’s me.” The Doctor didn’t respond. “Fine. Let’s try this. I forgive you! You’re forgiven!” There was still no change on the Doctor’s blank face. “God, isn’t that water freezing? Why are your fingers still in there?”

The Doctor looked up.

“Oh, it’s very cold,” she said, “It’s glacier melt. Do you know what makes it blue?”

Missy sighed. “No, but tell me, dear.”

“Glacier flour. As the glacier moves across a landscape it grinds up the rock beneath it into a very fine dust, which flows downstream—”

Missy slapped her.

“Ow! What the fudge—”

“You had a mosquito on your cheek.” The Doctor brought her hand to her face, but Missy hadn’t been lying. There was a small bubble of blood.

Missy watched her look from the blood on her fingertip up to make eye contact. There was a moment of recognition, followed by one of confusion.

The Doctor’s eyes fluttered closed, and she slumped over.

It’d been ages since Missy had known real fear, the kind that stabs you and wrings you at the same time, the kind that has both hearts threatening to jump out of your chest. She was at her side, yanking that blue coat aside, checking her breathing and pulses, hand against her cheek to see if she felt cooler or warmer than usual.

“No, no, no,” she addressed the Doctor, “You don’t get to do this, not now. You do not get to leave before me. Coma?” She shouted the worst Gallifreyan obscenities she could think of in her face. No response. “So, maybe coma. Pulses?” She held two fingers on either side of her head. “We have pulses.”

She pulled the Doctor all the way onto her back, leaning down near her face and brushing her short hair away.

“Come back to me, you ancient, beautiful fool. I don’t care if you never talk to me again, just come back. I promise I’ll leave you alone to climb your stupid mountain. Only I get to kill you, not some insignificant mosquito! You hear me!” She looked around. “Water!” Missy moved toward the lake, reaching for the ice cold water within.

“I live!”

The Doctor bolted upright, and Missy screamed, startled, and lost her balance. She was on her butt in the freezing lake, and the Doctor was on the shore, very much alive, surrounded by purple flowers, and laughing so hard she was shaking.

“I got you so good!” She basically cackled. “Your face!”

All things considered, Missy figured she deserved that one. It didn’t mean that she was going to let her get away with it. Missy stood proudly, fine mud on her dress, the rest of her soaking wet.

“Not a bad look for you,” the Doctor teased.

Missy moved towards the Doctor, still seated in the flowers.

“Oh, no, no, no, you’re all wet!”

The Doctor’s protests were lost as Missy tackled her, even as she tried to squirm away from the damp, muddy monster that came for her. Missy pinned her, the weight of her wet petticoats helping.

“Never do that again,” Missy instructed.

Missy couldn’t help herself. She pressed a kiss down on that small, mischievous face below her. The Doctor’s hand found the back of her neck and pulled her in closer. Missy finally resisted, pushing herself back to a sitting position to take in the entire picture before her.

They’d outdone themselves this time, truly.

It seemed appropriate, them the only two souls left on a deserted planet, climbing a mountain one step at time for penitence, yet somehow still finding themselves at bottom again, schoolchildren playing in the mud.


	5. a time for glitz

The whole thing was a very pretentious affair, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t glittering and gaudy and wonderful.

River found her at the top of the East Wing stairs at a quarter past eight, right at their designated meeting place and time. She’d dressed up, appearing from around the corner in a perfectly tailored three piece burgundy suit.

“You look dashing,” River said, watching her wife descended the stairs, “How are you, sweetie?”

The Doctor tucked her arm around River’s waist as they met.

“Smashing. And you? Wife?”

River responded by giving her a long slow kiss.

“Oh, you know.” River offered the Doctor her arm and she took it as they continued their descent. “Mixing work and play as usual.”

“What pet research project is this?”

“Well, it’s the 249th birthday of the famed leader Meniople III, which also happens to correspond with the independence day of the United Territories of Yikso IV. Every year it’s quite the celebration, and in recent years has become _the_ day to make your biggest announcements of the year, whether you’re a corporation, royal, or simply announcing what’s for dinner.”

“And you’re here…”

“Because there’s some inklings in the records that this year’s Independence Day is special, and I had to come see for myself.” She paused and brushed a strand of hair out of the Doctor’s eyes. “Plus, it sounded like the perfect date night.”

The Doctor responded as they headed towards the ballroom. “I don’t know much about UTY IV. A monarchy for their entire existence—I remember that. Were they the ones literally dissolved by acid rain in the 57th century?”

River hushed her, smiling politely at the slightly concerned gentlemen opening the heavy doors for them.

“Tread more carefully, dear. I came here to observe not interfere.”

River knew her wife had a thousand more retorts for that, but they were stopped by the sight of the ballroom. At least fifty crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling, the light catching the gold embellishments on the walls and flickering warmly against the marble floors. The floor was full, but not too crowded, as hundreds of couples danced in a glittering rainbow of clashing opulence.

“Oh, it’s delightful!” The Doctor said. She turned to River. “Well, it’s a lot, but it’s…”

“Colorful,” River supplied, “I thought you’d like it.”

They had to move to let more arrivals into the room, so River offered the Doctor her hand.

“Would you like to dance?”

“Yes!”

They followed the stairs to the floor. River’s arm found her waist, and she collected her wife’s hand.

“I’ll lead, you follow, and keep your limbs inside the ride at all times, hmm?”

The Doctor nodded, excited already. River prepared her wife, who was not at all a skilled dancer, to say the least. That wasn’t new, but other things were. There were things to adjust to, as always, but with enough love and openness, all differences could be reconciled, at least she hoped.

Thankfully, the music transported them easily. It was upbeat, and River spun her wife around the room, pulling her close when she got a little too enthusiastic, so as not to barrel unceremoniously into the dukes and countesses they danced alongside.

When the music stopped, River struggled. She did not want to remover her hand from her wife’s waist or pull her eyes away from that curious, engaged face. Still, she managed, mostly because the Doctor’s head snapped up at the sound of a loud ding at the front of the room.

A tall, slender man in purple had hit a spoon against a glass, and all eyes turned to him.

“This is it!” River squeezed the Doctor’s hand tightly. “The announcement!”

“Erm…good evening, folks. Thank you for coming.” The man in purple stood like royalty, but did not speak so.

River leaned over and the Doctor listened. “Royalty is just something you’re born into. It doesn’t actually mean you’re inherently good at stuff.”

The man continued. “As you may have heard, as rumors tend to go, I have several…um…unique hobbies. I know they are strange and some of you may think them charming. Others…not so much.” He cleared his throat. “But I am hopeful that this will be the dawn of a new day, the beginning of a new era. I have proudly teamed with Yeslo Motors and General Aviation Enterprising Industries, Incorporated, to build the first ever…”

A banner unfurled dramatically from the ceiling with a complicated, technical diagram on it.

“Starship!”

Gasps and murmurs were heard around the room, including River, as she turned to the Doctor.

“This is the creation of the first Yiskoite starship! By the 30th century their empire expands across the entire star system, but no one knows when the technology for space travel first came about, or even when the first flight was. All we have is five century gap and our best guesses!” She turned back to diagram. “But this is it. This is the moment!”

“Yeah, that’s not gonna fly,” the Doctor said.

“Very funny, sweetie.”

“No, literally.” The Doctor pointed at the diagram hanging high above their heads. “ _That_ is not going to fly.”

She moved to raise her hand in the air, but River caught it and brought back down to their side.

“What are you doing?”

“His math is wrong.”

“Not our problem.”

“Aerodynamically speaking, that’s not going to work.”

“We can’t say anything, dear.”

“Well, it’s gonna bother me if I don’t.”

“Not. Interfering.”

The Doctor groaned and twisted her head to the side. “But people are going to get hurt in that thing, because this ditzy royal doesn’t understand physics!”

River stopped with her hand on her wife’s arm, suddenly very aware of the number of eyes on them. They had stolen the focus from the spaceship obsessed royal, and the painted faces of the members of court were all turned towards them. A few guards had inched in from the sides of the ballroom.

“Time to leave,” River said quickly.

“Yeah, I think so.”

They made their escape. The only casualties were a pair of stuck-up looking gentlemen who received a personal encounter with the marble floor, a decapitated ice sculpture, and the Doctor’s shoulder as she body slammed her way through the ballroom doors as they were closing. In less than three minutes, River had successfully scaled a low hedge to enter the garden with her wife in tow. They caught their breath behind a large topiary.

“Don’t say it,” the Doctor warned.

“I cannot take you anywhere.”

“It’s not my fault Prince whatshisface is a poor aerospace engineer.”

River sighed and laced her fingers with her wife’s, bringing her hand to her lips. Hazel eyes smiled at her, the light from the palace catching in them.

“I love you,” River said.

“I know.”

A whistle and crack above startled both of them.

“I suppose they’ve forgotten about us,” River said, “They’ve moved onto the fireworks.”

Bursts of colored light painted the dark sky, each rocket shimmering and crackling as it exploded above them. When it was over the show left smoke in its wake, but for those brief few moments, it was glorious and earth shattering, and theirs alone.


	6. a time for space

The Doctor dangled her legs over the edge and leaned against the TARDIS doorframe.

“No violently ejecting me, hm?”

The TARDIS replied by keeping the floor steady, the insides humming faintly in comparison to silent, still universe outside.

“I just wanted to make a list with you. Point out the places I wanted to go. Like there!”

She pointed at a small cluster of stars, packed so close together they almost looked like one large misshapen one.

“Alpha Umbra. My gran told me about it. I’ve never seen it, but I’d love to show you. Don’t know when would be a good time though. The way she always told it there’s only a brief few million years when the surfaces of its planets are solidified. For most of the system’s life it’s like a roller derby out there, the planets constantly remelting, forced by impacts back to that primordial molten state.” 

The inside of the TARDIS was warm. Beyond the doors, she could feel the vacuum of space, the miles of nothing that separated everything that was wonderful and miraculous. It wasn’t scary, so much as cold and empty.

“I did want to say thank you. Even though I’m crap at a lot of it. Especially the time bits. It’s so malleable, always in motion, messes with my head a bit. But you, you always manage it. You get me where I need to go. Not always where I’m aiming to go, mind you. But where I need to. I couldn’t do it without you.”

She’d made it another year, with stardust pulsing through her blood and eons nipping at her heels. She wrapped that brilliant night sky around her like a cloak, and drummed out the rhythm of millions of moments more to come against the warm wood of the TARDIS door.

“Thank you, love.”

Her ship understood.

She reached for the still steaming mug of tea, the plate of biscuits already empty.


End file.
